Thursday, December 18, 2008

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Mix equal parts gin, walnut cream sauce, and good friends. Garnish with sleep deprivation. Shake well. Serve over Dean Martin Christmas music.

This delightful little concoction will knock you on your ass and make you wish you had a sugardaddy instead of a job at work the next day. Trust me.

Fascinating conversation though. The trials and errors of finding one's soul mate are one of my favorite topics, one that often pops up if you hang out with lots of 28-year-old single women, which i do. Last night's convo had a twist though.

There we were...three slightly toasted souls just trying to make sense of it all. The one thing we had in common was that we all came from long legacies of hereditary soulmating. What i mean is that all of our parents, grandparents, and for all we know Neanderthal ancestors, had found a life partner to love wholeheartedly and depend on really, truly forever. We had all seen it. We would all recognize it if it happened to us. Because we had been witness to it in our own families, we would accept nothing less than the genuine, the certified, the absolute real thing.


My grandparents ages ago.

This is cause for some concern. What if the kind of love and commitment we've seen doesn't even exist anymore? What if it just went away like dinosaurs or Vanilla Ice? What if expectations, roles, and responsibilities are just different now? What if the whole thing was a sham set up by our relatives to confuse us? Perhaps they thought it would be funny to watch us constantly search for love like a mouse in a mirror maze. Yeah, hilarious.
My grandparents after 50 years of marriage.

I'm clearly blessed to have had such amazing relationship role models. But, have they ruined me for the reality of modern dating? It is entirely possible that the ideal has become an impossibility and that pickiness will be my downfall. But, i'm not entirely convinced that pickiness is my problem. Hand in hand with my mid-week drinking partners, settling is simply not an option. My friend made a very valid point..."I'm not even able to BE picky. There aren't even any losers around to turn down."

Fair enough.

My two lovely companions, let's hope that our genetic pre-disposition for successful relationships doesn't end up being some kind of auto-immune deficiency. Let's not give up on history quite yet. It can be done after all. We've seen it.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Optimism

After a big, nice glass of Spanish red and some yogic breathing, i came up with some reasons why this job isn't so bad:

1. They promise to move me to an office next summer that isn't 900 degrees and doesn't smell like a stale, old piece of toast.

2. I can work independently (sometimes from my home). If i do come to the office, i can wear my headphones the whole time. There are hardly any meetings.

3. My boss seems really nice.

4. They have lots of free food in the office (including popsicles and string cheese).

5. My commute is 6 minutes on foot.

Bigggggg Deeeeeeep Breeaaaaath.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Billable Hours

I’m feeling a bit nostalgic. I miss my old job. Not the situation that I left, but the day to day, the challenge, the way it was. I miss my friends and my boss. I miss feeling busy with work I liked and I miss feeling that my job was cool and did good for the world.

A few weeks ago, I was at an online marketing conference, this time as a vendor instead of a client. I sat in several sessions that used screenshots of my former projects as examples of kick-ass online marketing. On the one hand, it made me proud of the work we did at my last job. On the other hand, I felt a deep sadness that those days ended before I wanted them to. Next slide please. My days of making an impact and saving the world…of awards, magazine covers, and speaking invitations are over.

This weekend, I went with my beau to his holiday party. Everyone was happy and I could tell that not only did they enjoy each other but also enjoy the work they do. I went in the bathroom, my usual spot to go when I’ve had too much to drink and am feeling sorry for myself, to do some deep breathing and get organized. In those situations, I look in the mirror and talk to myself, usually in a stern, no bull-shit tone of voice. This time I said, “You are not your job.”

The person in the mirror nodded in agreement.

But, I’m feeling sorry for myself again today. Although I feel lucky to have any job at all, this one just isn’t doing it for me. I can’t seem to get over the lingering feeling that actually “I am my job. I am what I do for most of my time.” For me, my career is part of my identity. And, I’m having one hell of a time line-iteming my identity on a billable hours worksheet.

I used to think I could live on the age-old principle of getting the paycheck so that you can have fun with it after work. But if you don’t feel like having fun after work or if there isn’t any time left in the day to have fun, what’s the point of it all?!

I really do want this job to work out, but that terrifying feeling of boredom is creeping up and making me want to cry. And I always promised myself that when I start crying at my desk, it is time to move on.

Short of botoxing my tear ducts, what have I got?

I’ve got a brain that works.
I’ve got friends and family and a dog who love me.
I’ve got a sewing machine.
I’ve got some sweet potato gnocchi.
I’ve got choices and opportunity.
I’ve got courage and creativity.

Looks like all that is missing is patience. Not terrible, right? With all those things, surely I’ll pull this job thing together. Patience aside, let’s hope it is soon. I don’t know if this new job stocks Kleenex.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Shih Tzus for Obama


I was afraid to be so bold as to say that i just helped make history, but, really, didn't i?

Today might not go down as the most important day in the history of the universe...perhaps the Big Bang and that day when the first fish to haul herself from one puddle to another lived supersedes today by just a hair. But today may very well turn out to be the most monumental event in contemporary history. I'm simply thrilled to be 1. old enough to participate, 2. legally protected to do so, and 3. in DC to celebrate with a bunch of crazed political junkies afterward.

I just voted, got my free coffee from Starbucks, and am reveling in the excitement of my second election in DC. No one is doing any work at my office and it is only a matter of time until we all just surrender the fantasy and start streaming CNN.

Though it hardly needs to be said, i hope that all of my fellow Americans who still have voting rights get their tails to the elementary school or church or police station or VFW and cast their vote. If you're still undecided or haven't been paying attention, just vote for Obama. Actually, if you have any sense at all, vote for Obama. And, as if you still needed reasons, i just heard that Nebraska, my mega-Republican home state, is predicted to award Obama 1 of their 5 electoral votes. If that isn't monumental, i don't know what is.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Tentative

I usually rationalize my personality traits and gut reactions to things based on my astrological sign, Libra. (Happy birthday to all you Libras out there.) However, before leaving my last job, I received a personality profile that has given me a more fine-tuned explanation for my sometimes eccentric behaviour.

The profile was fascinating. Not because it illuminated intimate traits i didn't know i had, but rather because it had charts, graphs, color coding, and sophisticated language for things i have always known about myself. It had predictions, warnings, and advice the likes of which my financial advisor couldn't even imagine! I'm not one for statistics, columns, and rows. But, there is something kinda magical about your deepest, most cellular being mapped out on an x and y axis.

Basically, it told me this:

I am a manically social person who abhors structure, rules, and oversight. I will rebel at the slightest oppression, but genuinely cultivate peace and fairness. I like to think about things for a bit and cannot be rushed. Diplomacy comes naturally, as does calmly reacting to change. I will become grumpy and unsocial when i feel overwhelmed though.

One word for the last month: overwhelmed.

In a good way. In a not so good way. In a scary, exciting, anxious, exhilarating, exhausting, sad, lovely way.

Leaving a job. Starting a job. Starting a relationship. Maintaining relationships. Planning a party. Planning a vacation. Planning another party. Traveling. Interviewing. It is enough to make a girl want to take her Shih Tzu and go into hiding. Which is pretty much what i've done tonight and may continue to do for a while.

Calmly reacting to change is all great and wonderful until you find that you haven't done laundry in weeks, the library has turned you into collections, and your dog (not to mention your friends) has been assigned to another "calm" and "diplomatic" person. You know that scene in Ab Fab...the one where Edina gets an electronic planner and it keeps beeping at her until she gets so overwhelmed she throws the damn thing out the window. Like Edina, I am going to, in a totally calm and non-aggressive way, scream "Give me back my life!" to the universe and hope that it works. The universe is just going to have to cancel some meetings. You can’t live your life under that sort of pressure, darling.

So, I no longer have time for petals in my life. I want stems. At least for now…at least until I pay a bill and take a yoga class and feel a little bored. I am diplomatically and calmly tentative until further notice.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Breakin' up is hard to do?

I'm a pro at breakups. I have them all the time and have managed to get quite good at it like one might get good at chess or snowboarding. I got another practice last night.

There are lots of ways to deal with a breakup. You can wallow in self pity. You can start nasty STD rumors about the newly excised. You can run out and have a silly rebound. My strategy of choice is to negate the importance of the entire relationship. The beauty of this method is that as soon as you do it, it immediately becomes reality...a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. (This can be either good or lousy, depending on how sentimental you are.)

I have a well-rehearsed speech beginning with "I never liked him that much anyway" and ending with a complaint i didn't feel compelled to speak aloud while we were together; sometimes easy to rationalize (i.e. "He was an alcoholic."), sometimes more a stretch (i.e. "His shoes were too white and he didn't even like edamame.") However near or far i need to reach, complaining always makes me feel that there is someone else out there without these lame qualities...someone fabulous who is man enough to adore my quircks and like me anyway.

I didn't date last night's heartbreak long enough to be broken up about it, thank goodness. But, he did lend me the book High Fidelity, which i'm now frantically trying to finish before i have to give it back.

Even though i'm only on page 26 (ironically, a metaphor for the relationship that just ended), I did have much fun thus far. So, in honor of Nick Hornby and because my one and only forever lasting love will undoubtedly be music, here are my all-time top 5 breakup songs:

1. How To Fight Loneliness by Wilco







Well said. You do just laugh at every joke and smile all the time. And, most importantly, it is very wise to know that the first thing that you want is the last thing you ever need. Self help book? Not necessary. Just listen to this song on repeat.

2. It Hurt So Bad by Susan Tedeschi







I love her voice because it reminds me of Janice Joplin. If you need to be cheered up after being dumped play this at high volume with a group of sympathetic friends and sing along using empty (or full) wine bottles as microphones.

3. Greatest Mistake by Handsome Boy Modeling School







Hip hop has fortunately evolved to talk of things other than the constant pain inflicted by the opposite sex. Leave it to Handsome Boy to come up with a song that is simultaneously sexy, sad, and cleverly written.

4. By Myself by Res







This song is dedicated to only one of my breakups, but if given enough thought, could probably be applicable to the others as well. I'm considering changing my theme song from 32 Flavors to this one.

5. Heavy Heart by You Am I







This is quite possibly the saddest, most pathetic song ever written. I can hardly even feel sorry for myself listening to it, so consumed am i by this poor man's wine stains. If there is ever a song more sad than this, please don't ever share it with me.

And so another one bites the dust. Because i protectively guard my own feelings and selectively bestow my affection and trust, i'm somehow perceived as being covered in poisonous blowfish spines underneath my clothes. What else is new? I'm dating only thick-skinned fisherman from now on. Spread the word.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

I've got a f-eva

I discovered a delightful distraction this week that has helped me completely blow off work and daydream away most of my afternoons...There Will Be Breakdowns. This is a blog created by a dear friend of mine from Sydney who is driving a van across the country with her dog, Ralph (he got his name from throwing up on a bratty kid...my kind of pup). She calls it a Vanta-C. I like to live vicariously through all my friends, but this is like accompanying Madonna, Kerouac, and Earhart to the moon in a vintage blimp. It is simply fabulous.

What I like most is that she admits to crying a lot. Crying for me is an unsustainable waste of water, one terrifying step closer to an IV drip. However, I do it often and have little control over when and where it will take place. My desk at work has become a favorite spot lately. I also like to cry while walking down Connecticut Avenue. The canal near the Georgetown waterfront is another good spot. I try not to cry at home because it upsets Olive.

On a kinda related note, I quit my job yesterday. I don't have plans to use the contents of my "Don't You Dare Touch This" ING savings account on a cross-country adventure with Olive sitting shotgun. I'm not cool enough to pull it off and, more importantly, Olive usually throws up in cars. So, I just got another job instead. I did all my crying over it last week. Now the adventure can begin.

Send my friend bunches of good energy. Her adventure will without doubt be amazing. And, since my new job will be helping small non-profits launch mega-successful online fundraising campaigns, it is only appropriate that i start right now by encouraging all my readers to donate to the Vanta-C. Let's keep gas in this girl's tank and keep the hope alive that you can still drop everything and travel unarmed across this country with only Apple electronics to keep you on track.

Good luck girl! You're incredible.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

What do you mean by that?

Because i have no Labor Day plans I'm celebrating alone at home by doing absolutely no work. I have spent the last two days on the couch doing not much. But, tonight i made an effort to push play on a Netflix movie, a very ambitious task for a long weekend indeed.

The movie is Il Postino, an Italian film about Pablo Neruda and his postman. In one scene, the postman asks Neruda what he meant by a line in one of his poems. Neruda answers that he can't explain in words different from those he used; that when you explain it, poetry becomes banal or, in my language, beige.

How true that is. The sentiment need not apply only to poetry, but to all verbal and nonverbal communication...really to expression of any emotion in general. (Except maybe text messages.)

For example, can i explain why I love walnut cream sauce? Can i put into words the creamy, rich texture with the surprising crunch of toasted nut? Would i do it justice if i tried? Obviously, if i was able to verbalize an oral orgasm, i'd be the world's greatest poet, wouldn't i?

The same principle applies to any feeling. I can't express just how it feels to be jealous or to dread anything happening to my family or to fall in love. I don't know how to write down being proud or terrified or smitten. It escapes me exactly how my head fits onto someone else's shoulder or why i don't like funerals or what it first felt like to be drunk. Those feelings are just beyond language, but very, very visceral.

I guess that is good poetry...getting as close as one can get to putting it into words.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

It's about time

I've been living in DC for almost 5 years now. Many of my friends and family members from the Heartland are convinced that bullets wiz by my head constantly, but i never feel unsafe. However, i was mugged on Saturday.

Even though it is often bragged about as the murder capital (both literally and metaphorically since Bush has been in office), DC has always seemed quite charming to me...narrow, tree lined streets, dog parks, standard coldness to strangers, etc. It is a city, without doubt, but it always seemed kinda small and harmless. I walk Olive at all hours of the day and night by myself and stumble home in questionable states of sobriety several times a week and have never gotten so much as a dirty look.

Walking home from Adams Morgan on Saturday, i was actually on my very best behavior...only a little tipsy and with two friends. It was just my time, i guess.

The most interesting thing i noticed is one's natural reaction to danger. My friend didn't make a sound...I screamed like a crazed lunatic. My friend laid down on the sidewalk armadillo-style to protect herself...I became enraged and fought back resulting in a rather painful head injury. Neither of us gave up our purses, despite common knowledge that it is the best way to escape unscathed. Neither of us remember making a decision to react one way or another.

The most comical thing about it is that the attackers would have been quite disappointed had they managed to wrestle our purses from us. As usual, between the two of us, we had around $0.80. I don't carry cash, which is why i often find myself walking for lack of cab fare.

I couldn't call myself a proud Liberal if I hadn't spent years in college researching the social implications of capitalism so, really, i don't feel anger toward these men. They probably needed some money and figured it would be easier to score some off me than find a job, which in reality may be just the case. That being said, I could have done without that punch (so much for all those boxing lessons, right?). Either way, they were caught just 2 blocks away.

After recovering from minor heart failure and brain damage, I am able to see happiness in the situation. For one, I'm alive. Also, if only to appease my worried parents, I shall probably take more cabs, a very fabulous DC thing to do anyway.

Get Over It by OK GO






Friday, August 22, 2008

Not really into threesomes

When dating, it is perfectly reasonable to be seeing more than one person at a time, assuming everyone involved is properly informed about the casual nature of the relationship. On the other hand, it is perfectly unreasonable to have a proper significant other and try to date me.

This is the situation i find myself in at the moment. Or rather, found myself.

I am not the kind of person who takes a supporting role in someone's relationship drama. I'm more a "leading lady" sort of girl. So when boy of the moment informed me that he was "seeing" another chick, I wasn't amused. And, after careful investigation (Where would we be without Facebook?), when i discovered that he wasn't just "seeing another chick" but was rather in a full-blown partnership, I was full-blown disgusted.

He insists that, though this poor girl might have a boyfriend, he absolutely doesn't have a girlfriend. I have a hard time with that logic actually...but, i've been known to be old-fashioned when it comes to love so what do i know? *wink* The most amusing thing is that he has convinced himself that by telling me the half truth, he isn't responsible for the feelings he is hurting, mine or hers. Unfortunately for him, I'm not buying it.

One simply cannot be a cowardly, indecisive liar and get away with it. I'm far too fabulous to be treated as second best or someone's dirty little secret. And, let's be honest, why would I want to be with someone who lies and sneaks around on his girlfriends anyway?

The good news is that i don't have to put up with it. The sad news is that the other girl, who with utmost certainty doesn't deserve this kind of treatment either, is clueless.

Oh, well. I'm sure she'll figure it out sooner or later. In the meantime, my search continues. Next!

No Substitute Love by Estelle







(I especially like the bit when she raps towards the end.)

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Misinformation

So, here i am, all dressed up, on my couch with Olive drinking wine by myself. I am supposed to be out with a boy, but (insert shocked expression here) he forgot what time he told me yesterday. Now, I realize that remembering things for almost 24 whole hours is quite difficult. And who really pays attention to the time anyway, right?

I do.

I've come to the conclusion that somehow along the evolutionary path, boys have sadly been given misinformation that could possibly prevent the continuation of the species.

Exhibit A: It is so not cool to be late.

It doesn't make you look smooth, like you've got so much amazing stuff going on that you practically forgot our date. Rather, it makes you look like an idiot. Also, impressing a girl is easily done by instead doing precisely the opposite...showing up right on time. That shows that you've also been anticipating the time we are about to spend together and have maybe even been looking forward to it. In fact, even if you aren't looking forward to it, it would be nice to extend the courtesy of at least not wasting my time.

Don't Let Him Waste Your Time by Jarvis Cocker








P.S. This boy hasn't done this before, but so many boys in the past have, he gets the shame of this blog post just for being male and therefore guilty by association.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Road Trip

I don't have a car so i'm hopelessly deficient in one of my favorite summer activities: road trips. I love them because you get to see cool stuff, hang out with one or more of your favorite people, and get into mischief in places where no one knows you.

I also love road trips because it involves my all time favorite thing: music.

NPR has been doing a series this summer on music to listen to on various types of vehicular adventures. Check it out here. I haven't loved all their recommendations, but I'm looking forward to their upcoming Hip Hop trip mix on August 19.

In the meantime, I'd like to (in a very AreSeven style) highlight a few songs i would bring on a road trip if i got to go on them.

1. Need Some More by The Brand New Heavies
Music is getting more and more uninspiring by the minute, especially most of the shit you hear on the radio. I like when a band acknowledges that some music sucks but that you can count on them to not suck. Also, I like the bit about music brightening up the dullest life. Indeed.








2. Fake is the New Real by Alice Smith
Can i get this on a t-shirt? She's brilliant and mega-talented, as usual.








3. King Without a Crown (Live at Stubbs) by Matisyahu
This very Jewish white dude can unexpectedly rock beatbox and reggae like i've never seen before. Meant to be a religious ballad, I like it better if I pretend he's talking about my future soul mate.








4. Me Voy by Julieta Venegas
A recommendation from my Nomadic Librarian, this song is the perfect sing-along song, even if you don't know Spanish. See the video if you want to love it more.








5. Music is My Hot, Hot Sex by CSS
Music really is my boyfriend...in fact the only one i've had in a while. He makes me infinitely happy and always has interesting things to say. He always wants to hang out with me and dance or just chill out. He always touches me in the right places. I think i'm in love.








6. Bananas Pancakes by Jack Johnson
To me, Jack Johnson sounds like warm weather and green grass and your arm around someone and the last bit of sun in a day...like easy happiness. Like tickling someone with a daisy. Like looking up into leafy tree branches. Ok, enough. But, it does make me happy and everyone in the car will no doubt like it.








7. Slow Dance by John Legend
I like this song because his voice resonates in the most lovely way. And because sometimes you just have to let the music soothe your soul and dance with your man.








8. I'm Yours by Jason Mraz
This song is so dang fun to sing along with, especially the part when he says, "Scootch on over closer dear and i'll nibble your ear." Sing on, brother!








9. Picture Me Rollin' by Tupac
Guess who's back? I only included this song because I had so much fun pretending to be a P.I.M.P. on a very rare invitation i recently had to Philly. There is just something about cruising down New York Ave. with the windows down acting way tougher than i really am (and have the other person in the car think it is cool too.)








10. Bohemian Like You by The Dandy Warhols
Just because it should be on every road trip play list.








P.S. Most of my friends know that i am a bit anxious in this wacko East Coast traffic (I've nearly bailed out of my seat on I-95 several times). But, i plan on getting a prescription of Valium so that I'll be a better passenger and, ulimately, get more invitations for car rides.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

P.S. I love you

This post is for one person in particular. I'll call her My Beautiful Irish Lassie since it is my policy not to name names.

I watched a movie tonight that inspired me to waste valuable hydration and cry a bit...actually, a lot. The movie is P.S. I love You. If you want the Cliff Notes, listen to the soundtrack.

I don't know if it was Harry Connick Jr. or the near full bottle of crianza I drank or PMS or the lousy day I had at work or something else altogether. Whatever it was, i fear i shall not rehydrate again for some time. I will be sure to set my fictional electronic planner to doo doo doooo do me every fifteen seconds tomorrow so i don't die. (only those that watch British comedy will get that joke.)

Basically, the movie reminded me of some of the challenges of the last two years and the memory I have of my now ex-pat friend whisking me off to Ireland to cheer both of us up. Though my demons are far less than those of the main character, I can somehow metaphorically relate, and so, i predict, will my friend. I won't bother going into detail since Ms. Ireland should just see the movie and not question me. She'll get where I'm coming from, i'm sure.

One of my favorite quotes (though not quoted verbatim) is that one must be rich to go insane. Insanity, according to the movie (and by my own personal experience), is not a luxury for the middle class. One must go on, however difficult that may seem. This is a lesson I've learned from my Lass, and a lesson I've been lucky enough to see accomplished by her in real life with effortless grace and courage.

So, please see this movie, my dear. I took a page from your book and let my tears come for once. I think you'll especially like the last scene of the movie beginning with, "Maybe now she'll understand...". It is beautiful, just like what I hope you're seeing right now.

P.S. I miss you and I love you.

If I Ever Leave This World Alive by Flogging Molly






Monday, August 4, 2008

Maybe, but Probably Not

I went to a house party on Saturday with one of my girls. I don't normally try very hard to make it to parties where i will know no one, but I like one of the girls who lives there. And, more importantly, she promised we'd be entertained by a smorgasbord of handsome, Spanish-speaking men.

The party actually became fun after my girl and I dominated the beer pong table, much to the shock and horror of the many drunk (and just barely out of college) boys who opposed us. Turns out, you ought not be fooled by the rocks that the overdressed chicks in platform shoes got when it comes to college drinking games.

I chatted up a boy near the pong table. On first glance, he was kinda cute and my friend was too busy rattling on in Spanish to be much company to me. I gave him my email address. Then, he informed me that i should try brushing my hair. Whoa! I didn't realize that I was so openly soliciting beauty advice from Polo-wearing oafs with their collars up. Furthermore, I do brush my hair. I excused myself promptly.

Very little time passed and my friend was under attack. This time he asked why she only dyed her roots. This guy really knew how to impress the ladies.

The best thing is that I got an email today from Mr. Charming. He went on about how if i get back to him right away, MAYBE he'll allot some time for me this week so that i can try harder to impress him (and presumably look a little less Medusa-esque).

Maybe i'll email him back. Maybe, but probably not.

:-)

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Viva la resistance

My yoga teacher often reminds me all suffering is caused from resisting change.

I know that if I could somehow learn to accept change as the natural, exciting, and (quite frankly) inevitable thing that it is, I'd be infinitely happier. However, like most people, change is not my forte. I become anxious, even sometimes physically ill, when major changes loom ahead. I like my universe orderly and predictable.

Today, I emailed in sick, not because I'm actually ill, but rather because I needed a mental health day. I needed it because yesterday, my boss, who I adore, quit. I knew that this day would come, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn't come quite so soon. So, with a mixture of resentment for the people I believe forced him out, sadness, shock, and fear, I finished my day and sulked home, fully prepared to pout for a long time.

This change will be dramatic for me in a lot of ways. For one, I'll be loosing day to day contact with my mentor who has taught me so much and clarified a fabulous career path that i would likely have never discovered on my own. I will miss him terribly. I'll also have to get used to another boss, who will undoubtedly pale in comparison. I may also have to find another job myself, which will disrupt my social circle, my schedule, and my finances (though perhaps in a good way). I already feel like a Robin who has lost her Batman, a chip with no salsa. This is absolutely an instance where resistance to change will cause suffering.

Because i slept in on my day of mental health, I walked Olive later than usual. I was still feeling sorry for myself. Then i saw a man carrying a pet carrier. He looked very sad so I smiled at him. He didn't smile back. When i looked over my shoulder at him i saw that he did indeed have a pet in his carrier, but that it was covered in a blanket. I knew that he had just euthanized his friend. It brings tears to my eyes as i write this. Suddenly i knew that i couldn't pout and whine and be irritable even one more second.

I guess that was the universe giving me what I needed on my "sick day." I needed to see the change I'm dealing with in it's proper scope and magnitude. However much I resist moving forward, probably to bigger and better things...however uncomfortable I am with the prospect of evolving...however much I wish things could stay the same forever, they can't and they won't. Let's try to keep things in prospective for once, Rach.

Hype by Tegan and Sarah






Friday, July 25, 2008

So good

I got an invitation and biographical update survey for my 10 year class reunion the other day. It immediately brought to mind the days of Pom Pon, Drama Club, my job delivering flowers for Country Gardens, sneaking 6-packs of Zima, my cute red Honda Civic, my even cuter bf (he had his nipples pierced and bleached his hair...that was so hot), and Warren G on repeat.

My girlfriends and i often share those universally awkward stories of growing up...horrible fashion and hair choices, battles over Independence with our parents, heartbreak, prom dresses, insecurities, etc. One topic that has come up again and again with all my many different groups of friends is our social status in high school and how it in no way mirrors the social status we have now.

Many of my girls have expressed to me, after several cocktails, that the unkind way they were treated in high school left deep emotional scars and a complete lack of interest in returning to their class reunions. In fact, there is general consensus to flip the bird to anyone even resembling that asshole in high school who made fun of our favorite outfits and laughed at us in gym class. Being unpopular in school may seem meaningless now, but at the time, it was easy to use popularity as a thermometer for our eventual success and happiness in life. I mean, frankly, what else did we have to go on?

Some of my friends, who are now both successful and drop-dead gorgeous, claim that they were misfits in high school, much like Daria or Mary Katherine Gallagher in Superstar. They didn't fit in, were unpopular with boys, and got made fun of. They are real-life examples of how being "in" in high school has nothing to do with your eventual fabulocity. (Of course, I don't have any friends that used to be one of those beautiful but bitchy chicks in high school...those chicks grew up to be uninteresting, medicated housewives.)

I actually didn't have too much trouble in high school. I had good friends and fun parents. I'm not saying i fit in (i think i'll have to accept that i may never experience that sensation.) but i made it out alive and without any severe phsychological damage. And i've been kinda riding that wave ever since. No major changes to report on the BHS Class of 1998 Survey.

But for all those people who also just got their class reunion invites and had a mini-panic attack at the prospect of having to face all those mean people again, don't worry. You don't have to go. In fact, i'm of the opinion that 50% of people who attend reunions only have something to prove. The other 50% just really do like polite chit chat. I'm not in either of those groups so i won't be attending. However, i dedicate this cheesy 90s song to my friends who had a shitty time and still turned out fabulous.

So Good by Destiny's Child






Wednesday, July 23, 2008

10 Block Radius

The other night, I had plans with a boy. I had boxing first so i rushed home to hose off. Tick toc, tick toc...he finally calls and ditches me, giving some lame excuse typical of crooked politicians, Enron execs, and single men in DC.

I was bummed, partly because i was now without plans and partly because i could have stayed at boxing and talked to another, cuter boy i have my eye on at the gym. This boy has done this so, so many times before that i have difficultly even being angry with him and am instead furious with myself for even trying.

So, after making a grand statement about how i certainly wouldn't find love sitting on my couch, I invited Olive on a walk. This was a solution i knew would appease both my dog and my disappointment.

Upon reaching Dupont Circle, who do i see giggling with another chick at a crosswalk? Yes, that's correct. I was ditched for a girl in a buttondown. Muttering "You've got to be f*!king kidding," i approached the lying jerk. I got the usual sleazy load of crap.

I was not amused.

I made my exit by explaining to Beige Buttondown that Asshole must have mistakenly made two dates...in the same night...in the same neighborhood.

And you wonder why i'm bitter...

Go Ahead by Alicia Keys






Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Kisses with tongue

It is well known that i am in the throes of an intense and satisfying love affair, the most life-altering relationship to date...with my dog, Olive.

Dogs are, without a doubt, one of the most charming creatures on this planet, up there with otters and pandas. Now, i'm not belittling the importance and loveliness of cats. I have some very dear friends that would scratch my eyes out if i ever spoke ill of the feline. Let's just go with a disclaimer that Rachael, though appreciative of the cat, is completely bias towards dogs.

My dog shows me near obsessive loyalty, friendship, and love; never passing judgement, even after witnessing my chronic misbehaviour; always thrilled to see me, however briefly i've been away; constantly worrying about my whereabouts and safety, much like an attentive nanny or suspicious prison warden. I've come to realize that this kind of devotion is not possible with a human companion. I've given up on a human version of unconditional love.

However, my adoration of Olive has taught me many things about loving unconditionally and generally being a better person. My mom also got me a lovely book a while back filled with interesting observations about how applying dog traits to my everyday actions could make my life happier. The following lessons i have learned from my own fluffy therapist:
  1. Ask for what you want. If you want a Greenie, much like if you want a promotion, just ask for it. You'll probably get what you want just for being ballsy enough to ask.

  2. If you don't get what you want when you ask, keep asking. Eventually you'll become annoying enough to get a positive response.

  3. Have preferences. If you don't like carrots in your food, remove them from your dish and place on the floor. You are likely to get no carrots the next time you are fed.

  4. Get excited. Nothing makes people feel like pleasing you more than acting happy when you are pleased.

  5. Be important. It is OK to know that you are worth extra effort and are worthy of praise, affection, and time.

  6. Don't apologize. Sometimes you fuck up. But you try harder next time. Your real friends will continue to love you anyway.

  7. Sometimes you need only sit quietly next to someone to make them feel better.

  8. Growl before biting.

  9. Be spoiled. Indulge yourself in things that make you feel good. Eat well, drink well, take naps, take yoga, get a full-body rub down...whatever makes you happy, do that.

  10. Don't be bothered. If you don't want to sit, keep standing. Don't do things you don't want to. (This life lesson is specific to the Shih Tzu.)
I recently celebrated 3 years with Olive by hosting a fabulous dinner party and cocktail celebration that went well into the following morning, as most of my parties do. Friends came unexpectedly from far and wide to help us celebrate and, from the look of my house the next morning, a terrific time was had by all.

Olive perhaps taught all our guests a few additional lessons that night as well. For example, if an unwanted guest shows up (the adorable Miss Dutchess, the English Bulldog), just take a shit on the floor so that everyone at the party knows you are unhappy. Also, if you are underage, it is best to steal swigs of champagne when your mum isn't looking.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

What makes you

A friend of mine posted this quote to their Facebook recently.

People are going to want you, need you, exceed you, take you, love you, hate
you, play you, rate you, save you and break you. But thats what makes you.
~ bumper sticker


Clever. Thanks HH.

The Neverending Story

So, today my ex-boyfriend's parents will be visiting my parents in my hometown of Blair, Nebraska. His parents are on an incredible journey: driving across the country on a bike. No, not a Harley. A real bicycle. Tandem, to be exact. My parent's house is pretty much the half-way point, from what i can tell from the map of the United States.

This is terrifying in a plethora of ways:

For one, his parents are infinitely charming and will surely have a terrific time with my parents. Not only are my ex-potential-in laws kind, generous, and loaded with interesting stories about their worldly travels, they also drink tequila. In summary, they are the kind of rare, mega-fun people you can only hope will pass by your house on a bike.

This may not sound terrifying to you, but i can assure you it is. It is scary because as much as i adore these crazy bikers, they are not my family anymore. Yes, they've grown to become friends i hope i'll always have. But, at the end of the day, i'm long broken up with their son. So, the terrifying part is that eventually, my parents and i will have to pass them on to the next set of parents. I've already warned my Mom that she cannot keep them.

Secondly, i'm not there to chaperon this visit. In fact, i've never been able to see my parents and his parents interact. They've only ever visited each other renegade-style, without my permission or supervision. For all i know, my Mom will be going on about how she wishes me and Ex will get back together and have beautiful blond children together. My Dad may recommend they trade in their bike for a motorcycle, which may hurt their feelings. His parents may reveal stories of me drunk in Mexico. All of these conversation topics i wish desperately i could be there to derail.

All that being said, i'm strangely glad his folks feel comfortable enough visiting my folks. My ex and i didn't have a harmonious relationship and our breakup was equally disheartening, involving a rather divorce-like halving of possessions and several Eat, Pray, Love-style trips overseas (there was no custody battle over Miss Olive, though we still call the ex Olive's Dad). I'm sure his parents have heard complaints about me that would make most people feel strongly opposed to maintaining friendship, much like the stories my own parents have heard about him. I know that my parents have my back and his parents have his, but it is refreshing to know that however bad things can get between two people, their loved ones need not share in the bad energy and hurt feelings.

If there is good that can come from a love that has ended, i'd like to think it can be to bring other people together. However unusual and nerve wracking i perceive this visit, i have to hope that they all have a lovely time, as i know they will. Anyway, my Mom is making her amazing bolognese sauce and she already stocked up on Cuervo. It can't possibly go too far astray. (And, those surveillance cameras i installed over Independence Day should give me some peace of mind.*wink*)

Check out the Tour de Homerpearl at http://homerpearl.blogspot.com/.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3

This is a test...

















It works! Thank you so much Reid. This job was truly above and beyond your usual musical mentorship. You're the best!

Friday, July 11, 2008

Ladylikeish

Last night, after a strenuous yoga class, I went to the Madhatter, our usual watering hole (with an emphasis on the hole), for a few cocktails with my best girl. I've grown to like the Hatter over the years, despite the risk of infection from the ladies room and hideous music. Like a really bad episode of Cheers, there is something kinda comforting and easy about hanging out in a dirty pub, stumbling distance from my house, where everybody really does know my name. And sometimes i'm almost glad i came.

However, last night i experienced one of the most revolting things that can happy to a girl in the city...

I ran into a rat upon stepping off the curb in the back alley. The dirty little (and by little, i mean huge) beast ran right into my platform shoes, tripped around under my feet for a while, and then ran off.

I realize that hanging out in the alley behind a bunch of dive bars may put me at risk for certain horrible experiences like crackheads, sewage leakage, drunken urinators, and rats. The fact that i know how disgusting it is makes me even more irritated with myself for doing it.

After my male companion recovered from a fit of uninhibited laughter at my misfortune, i informed him that i was a lady and therefore should not be subjected to the likes of back alley rat collisions. But, even as i said it to him, i began to question just how ladylike i really am. I'd like to think that i'm infinitely civilized, complete with embroidered hankies and stemware and good posture. However, i clearly don't behave very well and have most of my fun in a drunken, rowdy stupor. In fact, some of my most cherished moments in life have resulted in my awakening at 6am fully-clothed on the Love Sac with Olive looking at me shamefully.

The only redeeming quality of the night was that after a good long scream and a short trip onto the back of my male companion, i was able to laugh about my intimate moment with one of DC's finest. I was a bit surprised myself! Even though i usually pout about why i always end up in rodent-infested bars instead of immaculate, posh lounges, i was able to see humor in this situation. Perhaps that is the most ladylike behavior after all...perhaps maintaining fabulocity against all odds and in every environment is the epitome of a lady.

I won't be so bold to call myself a lady quite yet. If i do, i'm afraid i'll have to also call myself old. But, in the meantime, i'm relieved to discover that even if i find myself in a thriving dumpster community of all things sick and wrong, i can still hold it together (pretty much).

P.S. If i suddenly die from Black Plague, please send the lovely folks at the Hatter my regards.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Never again...

I was nice to the woman who gives parking tickets in my neighborhood this morning. She noticed Olive and I kindly informed her that my dog was friendly and would gratefully accept an ear scratch. I don't have a car so I figured she meant me no harm. Even though she terrorizes my friends and neighbors I assumed she was only working through several past lives of bad karma to procure such a profession and would perhaps respond amicably to a friendly face for once.

I was wrong.

She scowled at me and Olive, pretending to be terrified of my clearly ferocious (possibly rabid) Shih Tzu. Olive and I don't use a leash when we're just doing a quick pop around the block so the woman proceeded to lecture me on mandatory leash laws. She then stomped off, probably to report me and my feral, bloodthirsty companion to someone with more authority than her.

I have one comment and one question:

Comment: This evil woman deserves all the frowns and cold-shoulders she receives. She is clearly mentally ill and was mistakenly given a cushy city job instead of the straightjacket and shock therapy she needs to get better. If my dog, who is barely pushing 13lbs. and was idly sniffing flowers when approached by this maniac, is a threat to public safety, I may need to be locked up myself. The lady should be made to live the rest of her life in a cube in Crystal City for being so foul and miserable.

Question: If children are allowed to walk on the sidewalk without a leash, why isn't my dog? I think it is a safe assumption to say that most dogs are better behaved than most children. I know I may be a little bias, but I think I can confirm that Olive, a teenager in dog years, is less capable of destruction of property and physical harm than a human her same age. In fact, Olive and I run and hide from the brats that walk down O Street during the school year, throwing eggs, yelling obscenities, littering, and starting fights.


After the interchange with mega-bitch in uniform, Olive and I stared at each other blankly, both wondering what the hell we were doing in such a strange town...one in which you can't even walk on your own block at 8:30 am without being accosted by some crazed stranger with ill-intentions.

Then Olive wagged her plume at me and went back to sniffing flowers. I never stop learning things from her...bad people don't deserve much time...it is better to just keep doing what makes you happy.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Girl Talk

One of my favorite DJs has just released a new album online. You can download it like the last Radiohead cd...you choose your price.

http://74.124.198.47/illegal-art.net/__girl__talk___feed__the__anima.ls___/

Download at once. Don't question me.

This is the guy that managed to fuse Elton John with Biggie and the Pixies (Where is My Mind?) with 50 Cent and D4L (Laffy Taffy) on the Night Ripper album...a very honorable feat, indeed.
My fav track so far is 5 with the slow groove version of MJB's Real Love and Ol Dirty Bastard with Dexy's Midnight Runners.


Love it, need it, want it...music, that is.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Biodiversity

I am in a book club and am notorious for reading only one out of every 3 books they choose. I don't know where these women get their time, but somehow they can devour one book per month easily. I finally finished reading our February book, The Omnivore's Dilemma, nearly 3 months late. And since I'm so late and therefore have no one to talk about the book with, I'll talk to myself about it. I've gotten rather good at that actually. All those fascinating and spur-of-the-moment conversations one would normally have with a roommate or significant other…yeah, I have to have with myself due to my constant state of aloneness. Olive helps some but she is decidedly not an omnivore and would prefer a carefully prepared steak for every meal. So I'm on my own with this one.

This book was fascinating in so many ways, but I won't bore you with a book report. Rather, I usually relate to books by marking passages that make me think about a situation completely non-related to the book's topic. This characteristic as a reader also makes me unsuitable for membership in a book club. What else is new?

One passage I marked was in the section of the book where the author is spending time on a sustainable and rotational farm, quite different from the industrial farms from which we usually must get our food. He is commenting on how the farm has an unexpected plot of land devoted entirely to a standing forest. Cows and chickens need grass to thrive and you can't grow grass (or any other crops) in a forest. So one would think that that land should probably also be used for pasture. More forest means less grass…grass and trees are antagonists in the success story of a farm, right? It turns out that the forest supplies a vital storage facility for moisture, wind protection, homes for birds that are natural pesticides for crops, and other resources the farm needs. In fact it is in the edge of the forest, the place where farm and forest overlap, that are the most productive and full of life. It is in the in-betweens and overlaps that nature finds its most healthy state of being.

This could be considered some sort of post-industrial Siddhartha story, the middle path or the theory of moderation. Indeed, it is. But, it also got me thinking about what in my life could be elevated by some complimentary overlap in another person. (See why I'm hopeless in a book club discussion?)

I'm inherently lazy, non-competitive, and susceptible to boredom. I am sensitive and demanding. I can be dramatic and moody. But, under the right circumstances, I am also passionate, affectionate, and indulgent with my friends and lovers. I love having people around me and make pleasing them one of my top priorities. I like to inspire and support my friends and lovers to follow their dreams and make themselves happy. I don't have surface-level relationships…if you're in, you're in for real and for good and I have no inhibitions showing my adoration. I think these characteristics are o.k. They aren't well-rounded by any means, but at 27, I think I can work with it.

What is noticeably missing is the overlap of qualities I don't possess. Much like the thriving grey area between forest and farm, what are things that I need provided to me and what can I provide? Of course, I can't put my finger on the myriad of characteristics that could help me elevate my life to a higher sense of meaning and happiness. The zillions of facets of human personality are a bit much to cover in a blog. But, I can say that after a weekend watching everyone in couples parading around in puppy-love bliss, my missing overlap was felt a bit more than usual.

So, I will now focus on identifying my ideal overlap. I'm not sure whether it will look more like a forest or a farm, but this should be a little more fun for my girlfriends and I…we've grown a little weary of the make-believe personal ad drafted on bar napkins. The good news is that I have lots of friends and their personalities compliment my mine immensely. From my mega-motivated boxing partner who gets me off the couch by hook or by crook to my sister who is a poster-child for responsibility and adultness to my organized girlfriend who makes me at least attempt participation in this stinking book club…I clearly know how to choose the cream of the crop when it comes to girlfriends. Even my furry little friend Olive sitting next to me reminds me that I'm lovable even if I'm hungover and haven't taken a shower for 2 days. Though i'm still looking for my own metaphorical farm-hand/forest ranger, my overlap is clearly very rich and diverse as it is.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Post Its and Text Messages

I signed up for one of those text messaging packages last year, not because I really like text messaging but rather because everyone else apparently does and I was getting charged to even receive them.

Over the last few months, text messaging has become one of the most irritating forms of communication yet. Just as Post-It notes are really only good for writing down things that aren't worth remembering anyway, text messaging has become the medium for useless interaction. For example, I got a text message last weekend around midnight from a random ex-boyfriend that said "Hi." Um, ok...hi? He could have made more sense by saying "June." or "Feature Gradients." (I was just looking around my desk for words that have no context and those are the first two I saw.

I got another cleverly written text message from another ex the week before that said "I have been meaning to text you." Again, how is this useful to me and why would I care? These messages have absolutely no relevance to the current situation, relationship, or even current event.

I can see certain instances where it may be appropriate to send a random text out of the blue. For example, if I was at the DC Pride Parade, several past boyfriends would come to mind and I may want to send them a text that says "Results Gym had a fabulous float. Was that you in the cage at the top?" Or, if I saw someone passed out on the sidewalk in a pool of their own vomit, I might be compelled to send a text to a certain ex that said "Wow. Looking good baby!"
You see, sometimes contacting your exes via text is the safest and most appropriate method of communication, especially when you don't much want to talk to them anyway. But, if you don't much want to talk, why send anything at all? Can we all agree that each message sent contain some relevant or humorous bit of information?

Instead of "Hi.", how about saying "Hope you are well."

If you want to reconnect after several months of not speaking, don't send a text message at 2am that says "What's up?"

I will likely not respond and will instead tell all my friends how silly you are and have a nice laugh. (That is, if I even know who the text is from...I have an ever-growing list of contacts in my cell with Do Not Answer as the name.)

Now, because I am trying my very hardest to not be a spiny fish (thanks for that one, Mom) I will now give an example of a recent fabulous text interaction:

From boy: I wanted to bring you back a bottle. Do you like red or white?

Response from me: You're fabulous! I'm a red girl.

See...not so hard, right fellas?

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Working from the outside in

I had a fabulous dinner party last night with some of my Latino (and Latino wanna-be) friends. If you have friends of Spanish decent, you understand why i am clutching my coffee with a death grip this morning.

I'm proud to say i kicked ass in the vegetarian Italian cooking realm and we had a lovely Salsa lesson. We also managed to finish off several bottles of wine and Cava, which may have contributed to the impossible task of arriving to work on time today.

Awakening, bleary eyed, to an apartment littered with champagne glasses and wine bottles this morning was simultaneously shameful and fabulous. Shameful because there really is no good reason to drink that much on a random Tuesday. Fabulous because i'm glad i don't feel too old to drink that much on a random Tuesday.

I dressed in my most professional gear today. My colleagues must think I have a job interview. I don't. But there is something about looking like a grown-up that balances out completely not acting like one.

Thanks for all the fun Simon, Colleen, and Gabriele! I appreciate you speaking English all night just for me.

I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.

In an effort to prepare myself for the upcoming Sex in the City movie, I've been watching re-runs of the foxy foursome religiously over the last few months. It is strangely ironic how closely this show can mimic the real-life relationships I have suffered. No wonder this show is so hugely popular!

I've tried the young boy who lives in a trashy apartment with video games and posters taped to the walls. I've dated the too-feminine straight man. For all I know, I've dated the too-feminine gay man. I had unfortunate run-ins with several boys with the Mommie complex. I've accidentally dated a religious person. I can't stop talking about my own Mr. Big. I've fallen off the sidewalk because someone tried to hold my hand. And, I've even had two actual boyfriends. The creator of this show has relationships of our current generation down to a tee.

I just finished the episode where Carrie gets dumped on a Post-It Note. Then she goes on a rant in a nightclub about how guys are cowardly and immature. Then she gets high and almost gets arrested. Then she eats ice-cream and laughs about it all. When said like this, it sounds rather boring and unbelievable. BUT, the truly unbelievable thing is that I've very nearly had that same night. In fact, so many of my girlfriends have. I think the point of this episode is to remind women that we can be prone to craziness and irrational anger. Here I have to stop to ask in a very Carrie Bradshaw sort-of way: It is really us?

Being broken up with on a Post-It is one of the least horrible abuses women are subjected to in our real-life relationship adventures. I feel that the occasional rant, however absolute the probability it falls on deaf ears, is our right. God forbid after being stood up, lied to, cheated on, ignored, used, taken for granted, disrespected, and, in a plethora of other ways, mistreated we dare get angry and raise our voices. Frankly, we should do it more often. In fact, women who don't speak up only make it more difficult for the rest of us. If I am a crazy bitch because I won't communicate solely via text message or I want you to keep your urine confined to the inside of the toilet or I expect kindness, equality, and respect before AND after sex, than so be it.

I'm just sooooo tired of always trying to remain calm and classy in a sea of classless jerks. I know that there must be some normal men out there, someone who rides my same wave. I guess I'm a little bit Charlotte in that way. But when my boss found the printout for my movie tickets for Friday's opening night of the big Sex in the City movie and asked me what character I was, I could only very sadly answer Miranda, the jaded, cynical one.

However, when I am alone and feel sad about how Miranda I've become, I can always count on Samantha to help cheer me up with fabulous words of wisdom:

If you're never someone's girlfriend, you can never be someone's ex-girlfriend.

Now i think i'll call up my girls and eat ice-cream and laugh about it all in the most unfunctional shoes i own. I feel better already.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Self Reflection

A strange and kinda funny thing just happened.

I was just accused by one of my exes of talking shit on my blog about him. I was confused, naturally, because it would be unlikely for me to write about someone who could actually read my blog. If i talk shit, i set it to my preferred list, of course. Most of my exes aren't on Myspace anyway thank goodness so i'm free to insult them privately as much as i please.

This is the funny part...i was on a rant about another boy...you know, that "One" that has tormented me incessantly for the last year. My own real life Mr. Big.

Turns out, the accusing ex, who i don't talk ill of on the blog (yet), can relate to my posts about other evil men in my life so perfectly that he thinks it is about him!

The sad and ironic thing is that, much to several people's shock, i've actually spoken very kindly of his gentle coaxing me from a scared and cranky hermit to one almost capable of love again...not to mention my numerous shout outs about his musical fabulocity.

Apparently, it isn't me who thinks he may act like an "ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes," but rather someone closer to home.

It is fascinating how when love goes away you can overlook the nice things and try your very hardest to find anger and blame. It is also interesting that when you don't know who that blog post was about, you start having a look at the crap way you treat people and start feeling a tad paranoid.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Stay away from windows and spindles

Mom introduced me to a song by Sara Bareilles that she thought was quite relevant in my life of disastrous romance and consequential bitterness. Basically the song goes through various Disney bombshells and disproves their fairytale loves lives with a realistic dose of cynicism.

Clearly, my life is no fairytale romance. I've had several serious, long-term relationships and, just as they approach a commitment tipping point, I decide they aren't right for me after all and send the shocked and heartbroken boy packing. My rationale is, much like the deceptive love lives of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, I can pretend happiness, keeping my concerns quiet, sometimes for years, even when I know that I could never commit myself by law to men with very clear personality or lifestyle conflicts with me. Why I don't toss them to the wayside immediately has always been a mystery.

More recently, I've also managed to fall hard for a man so completely wrong for me that I fear I shall never outlive the shame of my own compliance with his disrespect. Much like Snow White and her f*@ked up relationship with the dwarves, I was willing to bend over backwards to make it work. Like Ariel, I entertained the thought of giving up my standards of excellence to be with someone who wasn't even housetrained. Like Jasmine, I was fooled by an ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes. This experience has pretty much turned me into a wicked witch, but has also made me wonder how many non-believers I've turned out over my years of corrupt fairytales. I hope not many.

Am I a relationship poser? Or am I just the epitome of a hopeless romantic infused with a little sass? Either way, this Bareilles song has some good advice. First and foremost, there is no float-on-a-cloud love that comes from blind appreciation and unquestioned patience for someone who isn't right for you.

What to do? Fling myself from the nearest castle tower? Impale myself on a spindle? Probably not. Keep kissing frogs? Exhausting! I guess for now I'll just keep my hair trimmed and stay away from windows. I don't want fairytale love anyway. I want genuine, realistic happiness with a little candlelight and a few kisses on the neck mixed in.

Not such an unrealistic happy ending to hope for, in my opinion.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Anonymous Comment Box

Sometimes you need to tell someone something that you know will not come out right. Perhaps it is a bit of constructive criticism or perhaps it is a flat-out bitchy complaint. But, no matter how you say it, it will likely result in at least one person with hurt feelings. How do you avoid these socially-awkward situations?

I propose an anonymous comment box. How else could one exchange information with people of varying density those opinions that, sure, probably could be left unsaid?

I shall now use this blog as my anonymous comment box for relationships, both personal and professional.

  • If you're taking me on a date, please don't show up at my house and ask what i want to do. Have a plan or at least a suggestion or two. It means a lot.
  • I know you can't help it, but your snoring really bugs me.
  • If you are a graphic designer and don't know how to design for the web, please don't call yourself a web designer. There is a difference.
  • Stand to the FUCKING right, walk to the left!!!!!!!! Please.
  • Please don't ask me out on used pieces of mail or other rubbish. If you're going for tacky, you're on the right track.
  • Just because we work together doesn't mean i want to chat you up on the metro, especially in the morning.

That's all I can come up with for now...going to dinner with Reid. Please feel free to use this blog as your own anonymous comment box. I would much enjoy some collaborative bitching and moaning.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Dear God

I saw this amazing website today: http://www.dear-god.net/

Being in the online marketing field, I'm always scouring the web for the next hip and cool internet fad. And though I'm not big on God generally (I am atheist), I can't deny that this site is mega powerful and engaging. Also, I frequently like to live in fantasy non-realities of my own design (remember that panacea for feelings rubbish?) so today I am taking a trip down the "righteous path."

This particular entry made me giggle. If only...

Dear God,Could you send me a new boyfriend please? The last one
was rubbish, frankly, and could have benefited from a rethink of his sideburns,
amongst other things. The quality isn't what it used to be either and I find I
have to dispose of them far more quickly these days. AND they're more expensive.
So much for quality control. So, yes, a new boyfriend (preferably Joaquin
Phoenix but I'm happy to road test others) would be smashing. Please have him
washed and brought to my tent. Thanks ever so.Baroness Von Urquhart -
London


So, I might as well give it a try. He/She has never answered me before, but given my mild hangover from last night's Live Warfield concert, I could use the distraction from work for a bit.

Dear God,
Could you please tone it down a notch on this whole "being a grown-up" thing? Frankly, it is exhausting and not much fun. Bills, cubicles, complicated relationships, silly expectations about marriage
and kids, Crystal City...i mean, come on?! I could really use a break. I'm not saying I want to go back to being a kid. I just want being a grown-up to be a tiny bit easier. Perhaps you could send me a condo? That would be fun. Or maybe you could send me a sexy guy who adores me and has proper manners and doesn't mind that I'm a little eccentric? Can he be an orphan? I sense that in-laws were
probably created by the other one down below. Also, could you make walnut cream
sauce and goat cheese ravioli fat-free please? I really love it the way it is,
but summer is coming and that whole swimsuit thing is kinda scaring me.


Thank you very much.
Rachael – Washington,
DC


Oh, and could you please make January 20, 2009 come a
little faster. I'm really tired of that guy. I'm sure you are too.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Favorite Things: Virginia Confirmed as Lovers State

I was coaxed out from under the bed this weekend and agreed to be trapped in a car for four hours with my new beau so that he could show me around one of his hometowns, Norfolk/Virginia Beach. I lived through the ordeal, just barely.

Before now, I've had a distinct distaste for Virginia, primarily because of the whole Crystal Shitty factor. What I found out over the weekend is that people from Virginia are some of the most friendly and genuine I've met in this country. Sure, they drive ridiculously big trucks and tend to vote Republican. And then there is that whole military thing....another topic altogether. But, I got to put my feet in the cold ocean and then my head on warm boy-shoulder. On average, I had a fantastic time.

In honor of the Lovers State, here are some more things I like:

  • I like that, in VA, you can have a $20 glass of amazing Shiraz and then a cheap whiskey, all within a few blocks of each and there aren't any silly dress codes at either place.
  • I like that in VA, the trinkets at thrift shops are sometimes organized by color.
  • I like that even gas station attendants in VA are friendly and talkative, but in an appropriate "I hate my job" sort of way.
  • I like that men who have never met me before call me "Baby Doll."
  • I like that everyone at the raw bar celebrates if someone finds a crab in their oyster. (According to one of beau's lovely friends, this happens because tiny crab embryos sometimes get sucked into an oyster's shell as he eats. But oysters don't dig on crab so the crab grows up in the oyster shell, probably in a state of darkness and despair. When the unlucky oyster gets shucked, the equally unlucky crab is still chillin in there and gets eaten as well. This is all very fabulous for the eater since the misplaced crab is said to bring good luck.*)
  • No one in VA cared that I totally suck at Guitar Hero. In fact, they were so unaffected by my clear video game un-talent that they gave me jello shots and a fruity hookah. I like that.
  • Retail store employees are both charming and helpful in VA and I have a fabulous (sale-priced) sundress to prove it.
  • I like that, aside from a few hours of un-fun radio listening, my beau continued to impress me with his musical prowess and I now have a bunch of new songs with which to annoy my neighbors.

Overall, I should really let guys of predetermined quality make me leave my comfort zone of 10 DC city blocks and occasionally see the world around me. I mean, eventually I'll have to get over the terrifying prospect of enjoying someone's company again. This self-imposed loneliness and impossible list of expectations is getting a little old actually.

So, I started with a neighboring state...perhaps being nice to a boy isn't much further in the distance.

Thanks for the fun, Oph!

*I managed to score 2 of these lucky oysters over the weekend. I did not win a thing on my scratch ticket but, I did experience luck in other ways...so validity of the crab/oyster thing is unresolved at this time. That being said, I'll take what I can get, however obscure, in the luck department.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Panacea for feelings

An unexpected new friend of mine has quickly become one of my favorite sources of musical inspiration (Don't worry Reid, you still rock too!)

Anyway, i was introduced to a new song (see chorus below) last night that caught my ear, probably for its very clever way of saying what I recently wanted to belt out from the tallest monument. Along the lines of that Eternal Sunshine concept, wouldn't it be lovely if we could erase all memory of someone and the impact they have had on our lives? Even better, wouldn't it be great if we could go back to the day before we met someone?

"I wanna go back to the day before I met ya. Things could be better if I could
forget ya. Somebody give me something strong so I can release ya. A double shot
of amnesia cuz life could be sweeter. (for me)"

It would be so convenient to go back with the clear vision that one always gets just a little too late. With that knowledge, you could potentially avoid meeting said toxic person altogether, or, at the very least, prepare yourself with metaphorical kryptonite to snuff out Superjerk quickly and without effort, before things get out of hand.

Or, if it proves impossible to just skip the whole fiasco, can't we just forget about it. Surely, with the scientific arsenal humanity now oversees (however terrifying that may be), someone could come up with an elixir or drug that would wipe my mind clean, freeing me of the unforeseen hurt feelings/insecurities/anger/humiliation/ect. Perhaps it could be a lovely herbal tea with hints of mint and rosehips? I'd even endure something sorta harsh and medicinal, like Goldschlager or Tuaca or Robitussin. I'm sending out an RFP for someone to invent this life-altering panacea...a panacea for feelings. Trust me, this would be a moneymaker.

All that being said, going back in time or performing chemical lobotomy should only be used for the most extreme of circumstances. After all, even the crappiest interactions with our fellow humans generally just make us stronger, right? For that reason (and as one who would very much like to be the first to try a double, straight up), I volunteer to be sole provider of prescriptions (or if you prefer, the omnipotent bartendress) for the totally fictional, the soooo not-gonna-happen fix for global hurt feelings. If you need a script (or a double shot), let me know.